by Helen Wells
Cherry said comfortingly: “He must have been a wonderful old gentleman. The surgeon and the purser both said he was a most unusual person.”
“He was a gentleman,” Jan said tautly. “He didn’t have the manners and social graces my other uncles have. They’re nice enough, I suppose, but Uncle Benedict was a man, Cherry. You couldn’t help admiring and respecting his independence. He lived the way he wanted to without hurting anybody. And for all that he disinherited him, I think Benedict was my grandfather’s favorite. They were very much alike.”
Cherry stood up. It was almost four o’clock. “I’ve got to go now. But let me brood about it all for a little while. I can assure you right now, Jan, you have nothing to worry about. The ambergris is perfectly safe. Steamship lines are very careful about passengers’ property. If it wasn’t sent ashore with the other things in your uncle’s cabin, it’s in good hands. Probably at the home office in New York.”
Jan shook her head. “I don’t think so. They would have told me about it when I reserved our suite. Furthermore, this ship was completely modernized recently. There may be all sorts of recesses that were sealed up when it was redecorated. It would be just like Uncle Ben to find a secret panel and hide his ambergris behind it.”
Cherry laughed. “I think you’re letting your imagination run away witih you. But, with Timmy’s permission, we’ll both search his cabin carefully when I have plenty of time. No more secret searches. Promise?”
Jan hesitated, then held out her hand. “All right, Cherry. But we’ve got to work fast. Someone else is trying to find that ambergris. If he gets it first, that’s that. I have no way of proving that it belongs to me.”
Cherry looked puzzled. “Someone else? What do you mean?”
“The man Timmy calls Henry Morgan because he looks like a pirate,” Jan said in a lowered voice. “Timmy himself told me his friend ‘Henry’ searched the top of the closet and took all of the toys out of the bottom storage space.”
Cherry gasped. Mr. Rough Diamond! But that was ridiculous. How could anyone but Jan even guess that priceless ambergris had once been hidden in Timmy’s room?
Jan, reading her thoughts, said quietly, “He does look like a pirate too. A seafaring man, anyway. Maybe Uncle Ben met him sometime or other in his wanderings, and told him he’d found some ambergris. He may have been following Uncle ever since, waiting for a chance to steal it. My very conventional relatives ran only the bare facts of Uncle Ben’s death in the obituary columns for three days. But some reporter dug up the story of Uncle Ben’s past and ran a front-page story about his being a very colorful member of our conservative family.” Jan shrugged. “In the write-up, the reporter stated that Mr. Benedict Paulding died penniless except for some almost worthless property in the Netherlands West Indies. It made a nice anticlimax to the story of a soldier of fortune, and he played it up for all it was worth.”
“But—” Cherry began. Jan interrupted:
“If Timmy’s pirate had been on my uncle’s trail he would have known that he had not yet sold the ambergris when he came aboard the Julita. Since it was not in his possession at the time of his death, it must be still on the ship. Even I figured that out, and our Mr. Henry Morgan, from the one glimpse I had of him, is a lot shrewder than I am.”
Cherry smiled. “Well, you’re not exactly stupid, Jan. At first I thought you were very young for your age, but now I think exactly the opposite. In some ways, you’re a very mature young lady.” She held out her hand. “Let’s find that ambergris and make sure you can go to college. After you’ve made your mother happy by playing social butterfly for a few months.”
Jan grinned as she shook Cherry’s hand gratefully. “You win about that angle of it. I can take art lessons in between parties. But we’ve got to act fast. I haven’t a cent for the taxes on that property at Piscadera Bay.”
Cherry nodded and then she peeked into the other room to make sure Mrs. Paulding was still sleeping peacefully.
As she hurried down to sick bay, she thought: “Mr. Henry-Morgan-Rough-Diamond will bear watching.”
She made a mental note never to afford him another opportunity to be alone with Timmy in Stateroom 141. But she formed this resolution too late. When she came up to take Timmy’s T.P.R. a few minutes later, she found Mr. Rough Diamond himself, sitting on the foot of Timmy’s bed!
CHAPTER XI
Timmy’s Pirate
TIMMY TOOK HIS WORSHIPFUL EYES AWAY FROM HIS pirate long enough to glare at Cherry:
“Go ’way. Can’t you see Henry is telling me a story?”
“Henry” arose to his feet in one smooth, graceful motion. “So we meet again, Miss Cherry? May I introduce myself? I am Henry Landgraf. Your little patient guessed my first name correctly.”
Cherry reluctantly held out a limp hand. There was nothing else to do. She had not one bit of evidence to prove her suspicions. Even though she was positive Mr. Henry Landgraf had ransacked Timmy’s cabin, she could expect no help from the little boy. He obviously adored this big, sunburnt man and would defend him with might and main.
Cherry pulled herself together and donned her most professional manner. “It was very kind of you to amuse my patient in my absence. Now I must ask you to leave. It is time for his inhalation.”
Tim promptly kicked off the covers and began to bounce up and down in rage. “If Henry goes away, I won’t breathe inside that old tent of yours. I’ll shut my mouth and hold my nose.”
Mr. Landgraf slid admiring eyes from Cherry to the little boy on the bed. “Timothy Crane,” he said in a gruff growl, “if you want to be a pirate you must learn to take orders. You do exactly what Miss Cherry says or I’ll make you walk the plank at sundown.”
Timmy howled with laughter, relishing the thought of such an unusual and bloodcurdling punishment. He grabbed the umbrella and waved it, cutlass fashion. Then he snatched up an empty pop bottle and twirled it expertly, chanting:
“Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest—
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!”
“One thing you can say in my favor, Miss Cherry,” Mr. Landgraf said humbly. “Tim and I have collected quite a lot of bottle tops during this session.”
“They’re not bottle tops!” Timmy explained. “They’re pieces of eight. Pieces of eight!” He reached under his bunk and produced an empty candy box that had been painted to resemble a treasure chest.
Cherry saw with satisfaction that it contained quite a respectable quantity of “pieces of eight.” She couldn’t help smiling her approval at the tall “ pirate.”
He bowed and moved in that graceful swagger of his to the door. “If you have any trouble with Captain Kidd, don’t hesitate to call on me.”
“Thank you,” Cherry murmured primly, “but I don’t anticipate any difficulty. He is a very good patient.”
Amusement flickered in the bright blue eyes. “Perhaps. But for your information I found him out in the corridor not long ago practicing handsprings. I’m no tattletale, but I know laryngitis when I hear it.”
There was just a hint of implied criticism in his deep voice. Cherry’s cheeks flamed.
“I don’t believe it. I left the child with his mother. She wouldn’t leave him alone.”
The heavy shoulders shrugged. “Nevertheless, apparently she did. She’s down at the pool right now. Or was, half an hour ago.”
Cherry bit her lip. How could Mrs. Crane have done such a thing? It just wasn’t possible. She must have turned Timmy over to a maid or stewardess who was suddenly called away.
Cherry was almost afraid to take Timmy ’s temperature. But in spite of his exciting afternoon, it was right on the dot of normal. Cherry breathed a sigh of relief. As she spooned his medication into him, Timmy rambled on about his new-found friend.
“Henry,” he told her, “is an awful smart man. ’Most as smart as my daddy. But he can’t find Fuzzy-Wuzzy either. We played ‘cold and hot,’ you know, and I kept telling him he was freezing when he tapped the walls a
nd looked in the back of all the bureau drawers. Guess nobody will ever find Fuzzy-Wuzzy but me.”
So, between tales of piracy on the high seas, Mr. Landgraf had got in a bit of searching. Probably he had been able to get in quite a bit of searching.
When the inhalation was over, Mrs. Crane came back, sunburnt and happy as a lark. Cherry decided to risk a rebuff, if not a complaint to the captain .
“Mrs. Crane,” she said sternly, “I don’t believe you quite understand about Timmy. He must not be left alone. Under no circumstances must he be allowed out of bed. While you were down at the pool another passenger found him playing in the corridor.”
Mrs. Crane’s pink face turned red. “But he was sound asleep, Miss Ames,” she defended herself. “At home he generally naps for an hour or more. I didn’t leave until three-thirty and I knew you’d look in at four.”
Cherry lost her temper then. She said a lot of things she knew she had no business saying. “I simply can’t understand your attitude, Mrs. Crane.” Doggedly she followed her into the living room and closed the door. “You don’t seem to appreciate the fact that you have an exceptionally bright little boy. A sick little boy. A half-starved little boy.”
Mrs. Crane tossed her pretty head. “It’s not my fault he won’t eat. They sent up spinach and liver. He detests them both.”
Cherry went on ruthlessly. “I’m not talking about spinach and liver. I’m talking about mother love.”
Mrs. Crane flounced to the French windows and stared out on deck. “Nanny adores him. She’s been with him ever since we came home from the hospital. He worships the ground she walks on.” She whirled around to face Cherry defiantly. “If you want to know the truth, Miss Ames, I’d like to win Timmy away from Nanny. That’s why I took him on this cruise. But it hasn’t worked out at all. I thought we would spend all our time around the pool. We’d have fun together.” She began to sob with self-pity. “I was going to teach him to swim and turn somersaults in the water. We’d get to know each other that way, and then he’d learn to love me.”
Cherry felt a twinge of pity. She said more gently:
“The cruise has hardly begun. Timmy’s temperature was normal at four. If it stays that way we’ll take him off sulfa in another twenty-four hours. Then we can take him out on deck for sun baths. In another day or so he’ll be up and around. You’ll have plenty of time for fun with him at the pool.”
Mrs. Crane sniffled. “I know you think I’m a perfect moron, but really the whole blame rests on my motherin-law’s shoulders. I wanted to take care of Timmy as a baby, but she wouldn’t hear of it. We live with her, you see. I wish we didn’t. My husband is her only child. She arranges both of our lives to suit herself. Mine is just one social engagement after another. I hardly ever see Timmy.”
“Well, I certainly would change all that when you get home,” Cherry said firmly. “You can, you know. Your husband will back you up. In the meantime, you can start getting rid of Nanny by convincing Timmy that you can take better care of him than she can. I’ll teach you how to give him a bed bath, and how to change the sheets without moving him. He’ll love that.”
“Oh, would you, really?” Mrs. Crane was pathetically grateful. “Do you think I could learn? I’m so utterly helpless.”
Cherry chuckled. “You just think you are. Hundreds of so-called helpless society women work in hospitals as nurses’ aides. We couldn’t get along without them.”
Timmy yelled impatiently then. Cherry hurried to him, hoping that at least she had impressed on his mother that he must not be left alone again. A docile Mrs. Crane followed on Cherry’s heels.
Timmy was demanding a toy parrot. He had seen one in the shop on A deck. “I’m Long John Silver,” he shouted. “I have to have a parrot. Pieces of eight. Pieces of eight.” He let a handful of bottle tops cascade through his fat fingers. “Pieces of eight!”
“I’ll get you a parrot right away, honey.” Mrs. Crane snatched up her handbag and darted out into the corridor. She was in such a hurry she barely escaped colliding with Dr. Monroe who had just raised his knuckles to knock.
“Hello, Tim,” he said. “Has Cherry been taking good care of you?”
Timmy proudly pointed to his collection of bottle tops. “When are we going to play checkers?”
Dr. Monroe glanced inquiringly at Cherry.
“Perfectly normal,” she said. “And he’s not nearly so hoarse as he was.”
The ship’s surgeon nodded. He strode across the room and flung open the French doors. “Let’s get a little of that good warm air in here. If it’s fair tomorrow and his temperature is still normal, we’ll wheel him out on deck. How about it, Tim?”
Timmy grinned. “Also, I’ve got to go swimming soon. I’ve got to. For a very ’portant reason.”
Cherry told Dr. Monroe, “He’s been a pirate all day, you see.”
The word “pirate” started Timmy off again. Dr. Monroe had to listen to a very Timmy-version of how the pirates divided the booty among themselves. He was very proud of one fact which he explained clearly. Before the loot was apportioned into shares, certain payments were always taken out. One of the first payments was for medical care.
“Those buccaneers,” Timmy chuckled gleefully. “They were always losing a hand or a leg or an eye. Henry’s going to make me a patch so I can pe-tend I’ve only got one eye.”
Dr. Monroe joined in Cherry’s laughter. “He’s got the makings of a good surgeon, hasn’t he? Nothing squeamish about Tim Crane.”
“I should say not,” Cherry agreed. “He’ll never go back to Mother Goose after this trip. Anything else but the stories in your book will be too tame for him now.”
Mrs. Crane came back with the bright-feathered toy parrot then. Cherry and the doctor left, almost deafened by cries of “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”
“He’s a cute kid,” Kirk Monroe said as they walked down toward the Paulding suite.
Cherry, though hating herself for it, had to report Timmy’s activity in the corridor to the young surgeon.
Dr. Monroe shook his head. “I don’t like to say this, Cherry, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to sleep in Timmy’s room tonight. I’m afraid his mother might not wake up and give him his midnight and four o’clock doses of sulfa. It’ll be much less of a chore for you if you’re sleeping in the other twin bed. Mrs. Crane can have the sofa-bed in the living room made up for herself.”
“I don’t mind at all, Dr. Monroe,” Cherry said.
He stopped outside Stateroom 125. “Oh, let’s cut out this doctor and nurse stuff. We’re on a pleasure cruise; let’s get some fun out of it.” He grinned boyishly. “Unless you object, I’d like you to call me Kirk. We were both on duty in the Pacific so that makes us old friends, doesn’t it?”
Cherry said happily, “Yes, doctor! Kirk!” She knew, of course, that it would still be “Doctor” and “Nurse” when they made professional calls on patients. But in-between times it would be Cherry and Kirk. Thank goodness. The ship’s surgeon must like her, must think they were making a good team.
CHAPTER XII
Caught Off Bounds!
WHEN THEY KNOCKED ON THE DOOR OF STATEROOM 125, Jan opened it. She looked relieved at the sight of the doctor and his nurse.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came. Mother’s awake,” she whispered. “And, oh, so cross. She always is after she’s had morphine.”
Mrs. Paulding called out fretfully from her bed, “Is that you, Doctor?”
Kirk Monroe, with Cherry at his side, strode into the room. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Paulding. Are you feeling better?”
Mrs. Paulding screwed her fat, pasty face into a frown. “I feel simply ghastly,” she moaned. “I shouldn’t have let you give me that morphine. I’m allergic to it. My system just won’t tolerate it.”
Kirk’s cool fingers were on her wrist. He smiled briefly. “I think it would do you good to get out of bed and perhaps sit out on deck for a while. You are no longer suffering any pain, a
re you, Mrs. Paulding?”
She pursed her pale lips into a pout. “I’m not in pain, but I am certainly far too weak to promenade the deck. I don’t know how you can suggest such a thing!”
Kirk nodded coldly. “You know best. We’ll look in on you again this evening.”
He turned and walked into the other room with Cherry and Jan right on his heels. Jan closed the living-room door:
“Well, Doctor?” she demanded. “Mother’s not really sick, is she?”
Kirk shrugged. “Not being her private physician I wouldn’t want to make such a definite statement. However, I will go so far as to say I believe there is a psychological factor in the frequency of her headaches. I imagine they often follow emotional upsets. Right?”
“Right. Oh, so right,” Jan said. “This last attack, for instance, was brought on because I refused to go swimming with a young man we met in the club at tea yesterday.”
Kirk’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Why wouldn’t you go swimming with him?”
“Simply because Mother wanted me to,” Jan said flatly.
Kirk laughed outright then. “You remind me of a little boy we had in the children’s ward when I was an intern. The only way we could get him to eat his oatmeal was to stand around his crib and forbid him to take a mouthful.”
Cherry giggled, and finally Jan relaxed into a sheepish grin. “I know I’m silly. I should give in to Mother on the simple things and save my strength for times when it’s really important.”
“It’s worth trying,” Cherry said emphatically. She added to Kirk: “Jan’s a very intelligent young woman—except in her relationship with her mother.”
Cherry and Dr. Monroe said good-bye to Jan. “You’re a real nurse,” he said, smiling. “And you certainly have a way with people. Tim adores you. And as for Bill, you’re his pin-up girl. You should see the portrait he’s sketching of you. Glamour plus, Cherry. To pun—a left-handed compliment.”